Maybe, Tomorrow
by Mister Grinch
Summary: Dean tries to have fun at a Supernatural LARPing convention.


**First crack at an SPN fic that isn't odd and far-fetched. I don't know when this starts... definitely passed Season four. But I'm kind of not going down the Angel and Demons route. There are more than enough fics about that and I'd rather do something fluffy and fun. So for now, this all takes place in it's own little universe. **

"**Maybe, Tomorrow." **

Chapter 1

It was over before it even began.

The deal was done.

The case was closed.

The groundhog saw its shadow.

However you wanted to interpret it.

Signed.

Sealed.

Priority delivered.

The girl was his.

Dean hardly got a good look at her, but had already made up his stubborn mind. All it took for him to make his not-so-hard decision was seeing a pair of toned legs dangling from the side of a barstool.

Long, smooth, and a delicious shade of English toffee-brown, the girl's legs and legs alone stole his attention. Seriously, how could they not? There wasn't a woman – a woman. Not a deranged, psycho fangirl – in sight at the stupid Supernatural LARPing convention. And Dean was getting mighty sick of the virginal, twenty-something, pimpled face douche-balls dressed like Sammy and himself, constantly trying to strike up a conversation with him.

"_Do you wanna be the Dean to my Sam this weekend? I'm looking for a partner." _

"_Dean going to hell was so sad, don't you think? And he did it all for Sam. Just like John sacrificed himself for him." _

"_That's a cool knife, but do you think you could get it off my throat?" _

Dean. Hated. These. Dweebs.

But the girl, dorky or not, would be his source of entertainment. He didn't have any other choice but to choose her. And she didn't have any other choice but to accept.

Sam wasn't there.

Cas was busy searching for, 'God'.

So that left Dean with one last resort to kill his boredom. Find a woman to satisfy his needs – all of them – for the night and then carry on like the wayward son he was the next day.

It was time to put his plan into action.

He moved over towards her, taking the seat right beside where she'd been loitering for the past ten minutes. Dean ordered a drink, letting countless seconds drift away as he made sure the woman took in his presence. He wanted her to notice him before he spoke to her.

And as soon as what he thought was more than enough time passed, Dean went in for the kill.

"You know... a demon possessing a hot Supernatural LARPer?" Dean whispered the deadly secret, his face tilting in towards hers as it was meant for their ears only. "Now that's cocky, even for me."

Mystery girl stared at him, emotions washed from her oval shaped face, before she batted her thick pair of eyelashes. Dean noticed how long they were, and how they weren't clumped together with thick mascara like most of the girls he talked to. Hell, sans the barely there lipgloss she was donning, the girl didn't wear any makeup. A rarity in this day and age. She was naturally pretty.

"Is my disguise that easy to figure out?" she breathed, closing the distance between their faces just a smidgen more. Hey, he wasn't complaining. "Should I have worn a different meat suit?"

Thank God! He was talking to a girl who was easy-going. That was a rarity too. Dean was willing to bet that most of the women he usually picked up wouldn't have humored him after hearing his opening line.

Then again, most of the women he went for would never be caught dead in a place like this. Neither would he. Boredom was one hell of a thing. It made monsters out of good people.

But he couldn't resist. He was going to make this stupid Supernatural fiasco work to his advantage. Capitalize and score a few chicks off the pickup lines he could use.

"Very." The words were hushed coming from his lips. "You don't see too many people like yourself in places like this."

While that was all a part of the hunter/demon ruse they were playing...

What that translated to was -

Hot girls don't LARP.

She wasn't necessarily hot though. Not in the cliché definition of the term. Hot usually meant bleach blonde hair, a plastic surgeon's latest masterpiece for a face, and a mindblowingly small waist. But this girl, whoever she was, had her own sense of style. Or lack there of. She wore slip-on skater shoes, destroyed jean shorts, and a white cotton t-shirt that was so thin, Dean could almost make out the pink polka-dotted bra beneath it. And he swore that behind her massive cascade of jet-black curls, he could see small ear gauges.

Yeah, alternative wannabes were definitely not his type.

But strangely enough, that made him want her twice as much. He needed variety in his very cut and dry world.

"People like myself." She decided on toying around with him more though. "What, you mean black people?"

"I don't discriminate when it comes down to handling demons."

"And when it boils down to anything other than hunting?"

Oh... so she wasn't opposed to flirting back. She was clearly asking him for his opinions on black women.

He gave her that signature panty-dropping grin of his before throwing back a shot. The all too familiar feeling of the residual alcohol burning the hollow of his throat consumed him. He bit back the urge to grit. "I'm an equal opportunist. But that doesn't discredit the age old saying. The blacker the berry..."

Her slender fingers covered her mouth as laughter wafted out from her. It was soft and choppy, with a bit of a squeak to it. Almost made Dean want to laugh with her. He settled on just smiling.

"Oh man, I needed that. Thank you."

Thank you.

That wasn't a phrase he heard very often.

"Don't thank me yet. I've gotta gank you now, what with you being a demon and all. Your hotness isn't gonna stop me from it."

"So what do you have in store for me? Lock me inside of a drawn pentagram? Say an latin exorcism? Shove rock salt down my throat?"

The girl did her homework. She must've thoroughly studied that badly-written account on his life. "Whatever your kink is."

His comment elicited a playful eye-roll from the lady as she sunk back into her barstool. "I'll take my chances staying right here. You wouldn't kill me with a bunch of eye witnesses watching. And you surely wouldn't want to hurt the poor girl inside this body. I'm calling your bluff."

Yeah, she studied her material a little too hard. Sounded just like something a demon would say.

But it was about time that they stopped nerding around and got down to business. The dorky schtick was a first for him.

"Drinks."

She stopped herself sipping her soda, taking the time to glance over at him with her soft brown eyes. "Excuse me?"

Time to go in for the kill. "You asked me what I have in store for you. For now, have a drink with me. Outside of this place."

"Oh, you're good," she complimented, wagging a finger at him before finally taking a swig of her beverage. With a smack of her plump lips, she sat the glass back down. "But I'd rather take the rock salt."

Wow. She turned him down _and_ insulted him.

Did he read her intentions incorrectly? It seemed like she was flirting back and enjoying herself. Her body language and overall replies made him think so.

"Ouch."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not interested." And on top of her insulting him, she apologized for it too! "I don't seem too much like your type anyway."

She wasn't. But that was the fun of it. "You know my type?"

"Listen, Dean-"

"How'd you know my name?" he accused, remembering how he never gave her it.

Her eyebrow raised as her head jerked backwards. "That's who you're LARPing right? I just thought I'd call you that since you never told me it."

Oh... well... he felt a bit stupid now.

"Anyway." She blinked. "You're entire get-up was on point. The lines, the delivery, the hints of sexy arrogance, the bad boy vibe. You are by far, the best Dean Winchester I've seen tonight. A plus, plus-"

"Never had many of those growing up."

"-But I'm not a one-night stand kind of girl. Or a relationship kind of girl, really. Why did I say that. Wow, I have a big mouth."

"Woah, we're jumping the gun just a bit, don't you think?" He knew how to handle this situation. Pretend to be a sheep when really he was a big bad wolf lurking beneath that demure wool. "I just saw you over here, looking bored out of your mind, and thought you'd want some company. I'm trying to make a friend."

"Which is why you still haven't asked me for my name right?"

"You still haven't allowed me the chance to." A stubborn one she was. It didn't matter. Dean's charm outweighed any of that. "What's your name."

"Olivia Wilson. Liv for short." She held out a hand.

He shook it, noting how her hands weren't as soft as he would've expected. They were calloused. Rough. Maybe she played an instrument. "Dean Winchester."

"And your real name. I'm not going to call you Dean."

Seriously... he didn't think this all the way through. Because when they had sex then she'd end up moaning a made-up identity. Dammit.

And on top of that, the name he came up with on the spot was fucking horrifying.

"Cas," He immediately began to regret his decision. Castiel? Really. The damn angel on his shoulder.

"You do not look like a Cas at all."

Of course he didn't. He looked like a Dean but you didn't want him to use his real name, did you? Beggars can't be choosy. Choosers? Whatever.

"It's short for Cas...anova?"

"Casanova?" She blinked.

Dean nodded. "Family tradition. Every first male born in the family has a name beginning with the letter C."

"Oooookay," she drawled, not seeming to believe a word of what he was saying.

"Come on, Liv. You and me, we'll go out, we'll have fun, you'll most likely fall in love with my wit and vast knowledge of pop culture and I will drive you home safe and sound. I swear to Led Zeppelin."

"Cas," she sighed, and Dean internally cringed. "I'm sorry, I kind of don't go out with strange men who have just accused me of being a demon."

Dean had to think. And fast. What would attract a Supernatural fan more than anything else?

It came to him. And heaven's celestial orchestra began to sing hymns of the divine.

"I'll show you what it means to be a hunter," he said. "I'll show you first hand, all that it means to be a hunter."

The sparkled that lit in her eyes like a firework made Dean jump for joy internally.

The mouse was eating the cheese.

This girl couldn't and didn't, say no.


End file.
